Mother of the Night
by Big Diesel
Summary: A vampire comes to attack Toriel. Frisk tries defending his mother but is hypnotized by the vampire, rendering him defenseless. He recovers, but Toriel is bitten. But, she tells Frisk that she is okay. That evening, Frisk hears his mother's cries. He tries to reach her, but it is not necessary. Because she is right at his doorstep. She has her eyes on Frisk and also his neck. {AU}
1. Crimson Rain

The fireplace served as the tiny sun for the evening, casting long shadows over the rug. The flames curled and swayed, crackling as they burn the the dry wood. It felt good to the feet, or at least that was what Frisk was thinking as he allowed his bare feet soak as much warmth as possible. He was hypnotized in joy, extending his hand to get a little more of the gentle heat. Although it was peculiar for him to gather warmth for the Ruins were quite warm at this time of year. But, it was the comfort of being under familiar ground that made the young Frisk happy.

He sat back on the rug, staring at the ceiling that he has been accustomed to for quite awhile. By now, he should know how many support beams kept the lovely, quaint home afloat; how many spider webs that made the ceiling their temporary residence, and the like. It got to the point if he was really in the spirit to the home of his former life. He contemplated long and hard. He even with the spirit guides for his guidance. Was he certain that he was able to leave from a world of deadly adventures, misguided monsters, and the options of routes that challenged himself and those around him?

"Child, dessert is ready," said the loving voice that made Frisk's heart melt with every time she speaks.

When he had thoughts of returning to his former life, hearing the heavenly woman's voice gave him great doubts of his departure.

"Here I come," answered Frisk as he got up and headed into the kitchen.

He ran to the kitchen with great enthusiasm as if he was coming there for the first time. No longer was he shy when entering the quaint abode, but knowing that the heavenly woman was there. Knowing he was going to hear her voice, serenading him with love, care, and the bad puns. Of course, she was not opposed to curse every now and again, that was an imperfection he delightfully accepted as well.

The motherly, white-furred goat, known to many as Toriel, closed to fridge with a glass of milk. She placed it on the table. She asked Frisk to retrieve two glasses and two plates from the cabinet. She retrieved the forks from the drawer.

After getting their utensils for dessert, Frisk waited at his seat as she went into the oven to retrieve her pies. Tonight, she decided to make butterscotch-cinnamon pie and her favorite, snail pie. Frisk didn't really care for the latter; gagged every time that she took strong bites. Nevertheless, seeing her loving face anytime she ate it made his heart melted. In fact, he loved whatever she cooked because he knew it was going to be made with love.

"Wait a minute," protested Toriel while placing her hands on her hips. "Did you wash your hands?"

"No, mother," replied Frisk with a slight frown.

"Right now, young man," replied Toriel with a stern tone.

Frisk excused himself from his seat and was heading to the bathroom. Before he left the kitchen, Toriel put her hand on his forehead. "You know I love you. I always want you to do your best and to obey me. Okay?"

He didn't respond, but he shook his head in compliance. He left the kitchen and was heading into the bathroom. As he entered, he began washing his hands. As he was counting to 20 before turning off the water, he heard a shout coming from the kitchen.

"Frisk," she screamed. "Help!"

Instinctively and instantly, the human child ran from the bathroom and into the kitchen. As he entered, he saw Toriel in the corner of the kitchen, hovering her hands as if she was defending herself from something. He looked around, but he didn't see anything.

"Mom, is everything okay," asked Frisk. "What was it that you were…"

"Behind you, Frisk," she cried.

He turned as he saw a black and red bat circling the kitchen. He remained calm. The first thing he eyed was the knife on the kitchen table. He took a breath as he carefully stepped backward to the table to retrieve the weapon.

"What are you doing, Frisk," cried Toriel.

"I am okay, mom," replied Frisk. "Just...going...to...try...another...method."

As the bat hovered around the kitchen, Frisk carefully, but successfully made it to the table. He slid his hands where he reached for the knife. He slowly gripped his hands around the plastic handle. As soon as he made his move, he swayed it in the air and into the bat's direction.

"Back away," cried Frisk. "Back the heck out of here." He was swaying the knife. At the same time, he shielded Toriel as she lied on the ground behind him. His pain was to keep the bat distracted and to get him out of the kitchen window. Frisk turned to the scared motherly goat.

"I am going to reach the window so he can get out," said Frisk.

"Be careful, child," she cried. "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Don't worry about me, mom," he said. "You are my main concern. Myself is second before you."

He was honestly scared, but he wasn't going to display it in front of Toriel. He was for certain not going to display it in front of the flying stranger. Like a Mexican standoff, both competitors looked at each other, waiting on the next move. Frisk was slowly edging his way to the window. He kept the knife in his hand, ensuring that he wasn't going to get hurt. And at the same time, he kept his eye on his mother. He had three factors that he was dealing with and he was certain that he was going to accomplish all three.

"Okay, Mr. Bat," said Frisk. "I don't want to hurt you. We are both in a situation where we are feeling uncomfortable." The window was a couple of inches away. He was reaching with his each other to the opening of the window. "You see, we can work together. You can leave peacefully and you can leave Mom and me in peace. How does that sound?"

He reached the window successfully. Trying to keep his eyes on all three subjects, he lifted the handle to open the window. Opportunity successful.

"Here, Mr. Bat," replied Frisk. "Freedom is right at your wingspan." The bat kept it eyes as well on Frisk while hovering in front of him. "I am going to make a deal with you. I will put the knife down. So, you won't think this is a trick." The bat continued to look, but he could tell that the bat was getting relaxed. "Once I put the knife down, then you can leave peacefully. Out of sight, out of mind. What do you say?"

Frisk slowly put the knife on the mantle. He extended his hands, showing the bat that he was weaponless. "You see, I did my part as promised. Now, can you leave us in peace."

The bat continued waving around until it tilted its head toward Toriel's direction.

"No," said the bat.

"I am sorry," questioned Frisk.

The bat left Frisk's direction and was heading for Toriel. Frisk flipped the table to protect his mother until the bat stopped in front of Frisk's direction. Frisk noticed the bat's red eyes were becoming bright. Frisk stared until he started feeling dizzy. He began stammering.

"Frisk," cried Toriel. "Frisk."

Frisk tried covering his hands to protect him, but the control was already in effect. Frisk was taken aback as he was losing consciousness.

"Leave me be," said the bat. "Leave me be, so I can feed."

"Yes, sir," replied Frisk. Toriel watched as Frisk was getting caught into the bat's spell.

"As soon as I feed, you will awake," said the bat. "You will know when hearing the window snapped. Do you hear, boy?"

"Yes, sir," replied Frisk.

The bat continued his spell until he knew that Frisk was under his control. "Now sleep, child."

Frisk dropped to his knees as he was heading for the floor. His final image as seeing his Toriel under the hands of the bat. However, it was turning into a human. He heard his mother screamed for his name until he went into an induced slumber.

 _What did you do to him?_

 _Don't touch me! Please, stop!_

 _Leave me alone!_

 _Frisk!_

 _Frisk!_

 _Frisk!_


	2. Crimson Night

_Frisk!_

 _Frisk!_

 _Frisk!_

 _Please wake up, sweetheart!_

 _Please! Please! Mother needs you!_

It was the cool, wet towel that got the human child's attention. He felt it as it dabbed tenderly on his forehead. It was something about it that gave him pleasant memories. If he had a fever or wasn't feeling well, his mother was always there, sitting by his bed, putting cold compresses on his forehead, reading him silly stories and reciting her poor, terrible puns. It gave him a warm feeling. He felt secured, knowing that everything was going to be fine. Secured, that was the best word the human child thought as he had never felt that way when he was in the real world.

He was alone. A boy without a cause. Born as it were on the wrong side of the tracks. Dysfunction ran amok in his former life. And that what it was, his former life. No more withstanding the verbal, often physical abuse from his birth mother. No more residing in his thoughts of dreaming of a real family. Frisk opened his eyes. Lo and behold the true person who had earned the title of mother.

Her glowing eyes locked to the boy when she saw him opening his eye. They were hazy, as if he was still in the middle of dreaming. She smiled, displaying relief that he wasn't in the entrapped state earlier. He tried opening his mouth, but she knew he was still trying to wake up.

"Shh! Shh! Don't rush yourself, child," said Toriel calmly and gently. "You can be a little stubborn when you leave a lovely lady alone like this." Frisk smiled at her humor. Knowing the ordeal they both encountered, it was refreshing that she appeared okay. He tilted his head to observe his surroundings. They were still in the kitchen. It was currently in quite a mess. The shards of glass were still on the floor. Their desserts were lying alone, splattered on the floor for the ants to gather for their own feast. Frisk lowered his cheek, turning red.

"Sorry," answered the human child weakly. He licked his lips, trying to produce moisture to his dry mouth. "Sorry for not helping you. Sorry for not saving you."

Toriel put her finger to his lips. "Hush, child. There is no reason for you to be sorry. I am okay. I will be fine. You are my first concern. Mother isn't worried about it. I am worried for you, child."

"Where is he?" Frisk questioned his mother about the bat.

"Gone! He flew away as quickly as he came."

"Did he hurt you?"

She went quiet for a moment. "Let's not worry about that." Frisk saw a bandage wrapped around his mother's neck. He saw two distinctive marks, blood leaking from the wounds, only to be absorbed by the bandage. He stretched his arms out to the bandage. It wasn't until his mother slapped his hand.

"You are still the nosy type, little one," answered Toriel as she made a tsk sound. "Now, let me help get yourself ready for bed."

"But, what about the mess, mother," questioned Frisk.

She wavered her hand. "Never mind about that, child." She sighed through her nose. "Something about children being worried about business that they should never have to worry about." She helped him from her lap. She took him by his hand and led him to his bedroom.

Frisk went into his drawer and pulled out his pajamas. Toriel stayed as he undressed. Once he was finished, he gave his clothes to his mother for laundry. "While you brush your teeth and wash your face, I am going to put your clothes in the wash. When you are finished, get into bed and I will read to you."

"Yes, mother." Frisk watched his mother leave the room as he prepared for his usual nightly routine. Throughout that time, he was still concerned about his mother.

Frisk admired Toriel. Frisk wanted nothing more from her than her acceptance. Granted, he was a curious, nubile child, very naive when discovering the underworld. Granted, he had been in predicaments where he nearly lost his life. As always, Toriel was always there. During their time together, Frisk yearned for a mother's love. A teammate, a problem solver, a best friend, a partner, things that made the human child feel that he was purposeful, useful, loved.

He looked into the mirror as he brushed his teeth, checking that he covered all of the areas. He saw his face and thought of when it was the last time he had a glow. What used to be as a canvas of purple and blue turned into its natural form. He checked his eyes, just wanted to be sure that he wasn't dreaming.

He cleaned his face, placing the towel next to his mother's. A slight tear escaped his eye. Above the towel rack was another set of towels, monogrammed with their initials on it. He belonged, he thought. He belonged. He took deep breaths. Never in his young life did the human child felt weak when he couldn't save his mother. Defenseless, pestilent; crude, but cruels words he produced. He felt he was back in his home in the human world, sitting at the end of the table, awaiting his birth mother for his nightly treatment. A date with a belt, an extension cord, her hand? Silence filled the bathroom. He turned out the light. He knew his mother was waiting for him.

When arriving back to the bed, he saw Toriel sitting in the rocking chair. With the usual glass of warm milk on the nightstand and a storybook in hand, she was ready for their nightly routine.

"You were gone for quite a spell, dear," said Toriel. "I was beginning to suspect something was wrong or you wanted some _alone_ time." The latter was met with slight humor. She knew that Frisk was a teenager and wasn't surprised of his curiosity with the opposite sex.

"Really, Mom," retorted Frisk while raising his eyebrows. "Even with all of the stuff that happened earlier, you still managed to find humor?"

"What can I say?" She let out a wink. "Mother always finds humor in the midst of storms. Even hurricanes have moments of peace within." She patted his bed. "Now, come. Drink your milk and I will read you a story."

Frisk took off his slippers before climbing into the bed. She covered his blanket and then gave him his glass of milk. Nothing like warm glass of goat milk to prepare him for his nightly dreams. He finished it quickly, wiping the moustache with his sleeve. He turned to his mother. "Mother, instead of reading a book, can we just talk?"

Her expression displayed discernment, as if she already knew what question he was going to ask. She remained calm, placing the book on the nightstand. She crossed her legs, peering close to his bed. "You can ask anything you want dear. I am all ears."

He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Earlier, I was quite scared when I saw the bandages around you. He did it and I just sat there and took it." He sat up. "You are quite calm about the ordeal. Are you are not worried?"

She rested her hands on his hand. "Yes, I am. I am quite concerned. But understand, Frisk, that it is not your job to worry about it. You are young and full of life. It is the job of a mother to take care of such things, no matter how severe the tasks or the moments." She rubbed her wound tenderly. She winced for a bit. "Like you, I woke up after he bit me. The moment he made contact with my neck, I was asleep. It hurted. When I came to, he was already gone. Like I said earlier, he was gone quickly as he arrived."

"Do you think it should get checked out? Should we inform someone?"

She rubbed his hand. "This is the underworld, dear. Things aren't what they are here as it is in the human world." She released a sigh. "Tomorrow, I will go search for herbs in the forest. Somewhere in that book should be a home remedy of easing the pain."

"Mother…" She put his finger to his lip.

"Hush now, child. I know you want to help. There are some things you just can't do."

Frisk turned away. His cheeks began to swell. Toriel saw a tear shed. "Look, dear. I am sorry. I didn't mean it that way." She sighed. "You have been through so much in your young life. I don't want to put anymore strain on you. Just let me do my job, to protect you, to worry about you, to love. And you do your job, to be the best son you can be for me." She kissed him on his forehead. "I know you want to protect me. I know you love me to the point that you would die…." She stopped, releasing another sigh. "Get some rest, child. I am going to clean up the mess from the kitchen."

She stood up, making her way to the front door. "Tomorrow, I will make another attempt at dessert. This time, let's finish it."

"Good night, Mother."

"Good night, Frisk. Sweet dreams!"

She turned out the light, closing the door behind her. Frisk stood alone in his room. He lowered himself to the bed. He put his head on his pillow. Despite their previous conversation, he partially asked her questions. There were others, but he hesitated. He casted those thoughts aside. He turned on his stomach to prepare for sleep. His last thoughts were of his mother and only his mother.

"Secured. I feel secured."

His eyes immediately snapped open when hearing the wailing cries coming from outside of his bedroom. It sounded like a kitten that was under attack from a cruel owner. The screams grew louder, piercing the human child's ears. He knew that something was wrong with his mother. She was in trouble.

He threw the blankets aside. He was fortunate that the moon was aiding his light. He paused when the cries immediately stopped. The atmosphere itself became quiet. It was frighteningly stiffed. It was as if the entire place was vacuumed, taking away any source of sound. Regardless, his mother was in danger and he was going to save her, no matter the cost.

He had hesitation. He slowly crept his way to the door. His heart was beating. He couldn't hear it, but he felt it. He took slow steps. He kept himself guarded with the book his mother left. As he put his hands to the door, the door immediately opened. Like a gust of wind, he was quickly pushed back to this room. He was thrown to the nightstand. He felt a sharp pain as the nightstand collapsed. He was too focused on the pain to realize the presence was standing in the room.

 _You have always been too fickle, child._

That voice, that familiar voice. The same voice that comforted him, supported him, loved him. He turned. His eyes widened when he saw that it was Toriel. It was his acknowledgement of her that brought chills to his spine, the slight drop of temperature in the room, and the descent of absolute silence. Her voice came, high pitched and cold. "What's the matter, child? You have seen as though you have witnessed a ghost."

She was floating, hovering in front of him. Her eyes glowed a crimson red into the night. One thing that stood out when seeing her fangs shining into the night.

He knew that whatever happened to his mother is making her what she was becoming in this particular juncture. Toriel lowered herself to Frisk. She was very calm unlike him. He was frightened, afraid of what happened to his mother. She kneeled before him. Her finger alighted on his exposed neck. He shivered as he felt her coldness of the finger as she ran it from behind his ear to the other side of his ear. She sniffed his neck, inhaling it sharply before retreating.

She crackled. "I know you are scared, child." She pressed closer to his neck. "You are afraid, aren't you." She took her hand and cradled his chin. "Look at me, my child. Stare into the eyes of your mother. Close your eyes and let me extend my love for you as I feast on your neck to feed." Before he could hesitate, she covered his mouth. "Shh! Shh! Relax! Come into my spell! Allow me to feed. If anyone should get the first bite, it should be me."

He screamed, but it was muffled by his mother's hand as he felt her teeth puncturing his neck. He cried as he felt his protector, his provider sucking the blood from his neck. "Shh! Shh, child. It is okay. Let mother take care of you." She let out a tickled, hoarse laugh. "Let mother take care of you, my precious Frisk. Because you aren't going anywhere. You are mine!"

Frisk was drifting away. Tears escaped his eyes. His eyes never left her sight as he dwindled into another slumber.


End file.
